Runaway
by stephmcx
Summary: Steve is 16 and desperate enough to steal a car to get away from the Army-Navy Academy. What follows are the most crazy 24 hours of his life, including hitting rock bottom before finding a friend in the stranger who helped putting him there. (AU inspired by episode 9x10, where it is mentioned that Steve stole that car and Joe White got him out of police custody.)


_Can you help me remember how to smile_  
_Make it somehow all seem worthwhile_  
_How on earth did I get so jaded_  
_Life's mystery seems so faded_

— "Runaway Train" by Soul Asylum

It's early sunday morning and no one pays attention to him leaving the campus, it's almost too easy. Steve walks quickly, like he has a purpose, but he's not running, that would be suspicious. He needs to get away. Away from this school, all the rules, the constant competition, the conformity, it's suffocating him.

Life at the Army-Navy Academy couldn't be more different from the easy-going island lifestyle he knows and he doesn't want to be here. There's hardly a friendly face here, no one ever smiles, and he's missing Hawaii like crazy. His home, his friends, his family, his mom—

No.

Focus.

Stealing the car is easy. Too easy, Steve thinks, and for a moment he hesitates. He looks around carefully, but the small side street is empty. There's no one there and he opens the door and slips into the driver's seat quickly. He takes a deep breath before he bends down to hot-wire the car. The engine springs to life after the second try, so does the radio, and Steve can't help but grin a little. He deposits his backpack on the passenger seat and leans back, relieved that the first hurdle is taken.

It's a reckless thing to do, stealing a car, son of a cop that he is. Or is he? His dad doesn't want him around anymore, he's made that clear enough. The thought still hurts and it wipes the grin right off his face, replacing it with a fierce determination. He's not going to stay here either, that's for sure. He puts the car in motion and pulls away from the curb. He needs to get away from this place, put as much distance as possible between him and Carlsbad and with every mile he makes, it feels like a little weight is being lifted off his heart.

But the further he goes, the clearer it becomes that he needs to stop soon and plan his next step. Until now his objective had been to get away, the second part of his plan had merely consisted of the idea of "making it back home somehow". Clearly, that needs revising. He's got a little money, not much, but his dad had at least made sure he had some cash at hand for emergencies.

Steve doesn't pay much attention to where he's going, except that he's heading north and into the general direction of Los Angeles. He goes fast, but he's careful not to speed, he doesn't want to attract any attention. He hasn't kept track of time or mileage, and it doesn't really matter either. He checks that there's still enough gas in the tank and decides to keep on driving for a while longer. Just in case anyone is looking for him.

—

It's late morning when Steve pulls over and stops at a lookout spot on the side of the road. It's got a marvelous view of the ocean, little glints of sunlight are highlighting the softly rolling waves below and Steve is hit with a fresh bout of homesickness, so intense that it feels like a punch to the gut. For a moment he can't breathe and he grabs for the door handle, almost frantic to get out of the car and into fresh air.

Steve breathes deeply, he can smell the ocean and the salt in the air and it's familiar, yet the scent is totally different from home. He runs his hands through his hair and over his face, desperate, like he is being torn into pieces, he feels so lost. He wants nothing more than to turn back time. It's a childish wish, he knows that, but he can't comprehend how his life has been turned upside-down within a matter of weeks.

Everything has been a blur ever since the day his mother died; from the moment the doorbell rang and the somber looking cops talked to his dad, to the funeral, to his first day back at school after, to the day his dad told him he and Mary would be leaving. It had only been last week. _Last week!_

Steve leans against the car and closes his eyes against the tears, fighting for composure for a moment, but it's a lost battle. He doesn't even try to wipe the tears away, he just slides down until he sits on the ground with his back leaning against the rear door, buries his face in his hands and cries.

It's the first time in all these weeks that he is alone, that he doesn't need to keep it together for anyone's sake, that he can let go. All the grief and heartache and anger that he had to keep in check break free now and while he feels like screaming, he's just sitting there, crying and sobbing. His head is leaning on his knees, his arms are wrapped around his legs, he's curled into a tight ball of misery.

Steve can't comprehend how everything has just been taken away from him. God or fate or simply bad luck took his mom away from them. And then his dad deliberately destroyed what was left and now he's got no mother, no father, no Mary, no home. What the hell is he supposed to do? Where does he go from here?

He thinks of Mary, god Mary! He misses his baby sister so much and she had been struggling and suffering so bad, so much worse than him. Steve remembers how he had found her sleeping on the floor in front of his bed one morning, and it had torn his heart out when she told him she had been afraid of being alone. The following nights Steve had camped out on the floor in Mary's room, so she would feel safe.

Steve likes his Aunt Deb just fine, she had never been anything but kind and friendly towards Mary and him, but would Mary trust her enough? Was she able to keep Mary safe? Or would Mary lie awake at night, all afraid in the dark in an unfamiliar home?

He should go get her, they should stick together, they are all the family they have. If their dad doesn't want either of them anymore, well, so be it. But fuck if he goes along with it. Mary is his sister and they belong together and he will take care of her.

Steve takes a shaky breath, and wipes at his face, blinking the tears away, all of a sudden impatient and determined. If he wants to get Mary, if he wants her to come with him, he needs a plan first.

—

By early afternoon Steve dumps the stolen car in the longterm parking area at LAX. He's still a mess, he's hurting and he is angry and holding it together just so, but he's got a plan now and he's determined to see it through. He'll get two plane tickets back to Hawaii for Mary and him, that's why he decided to come here. But the airport its also a good opportunity to change cars. Hopefully no one will notice the stolen one he just dumped for a while longer, and when he's got the tickets he'll steal another car and he will get Mary.

He will also need to make a phone call to his friend Kawika back home. Hopefully he can talk Kawika and his family into hiding Mary and him with the Kapu, at least for a while.

Steve's plan is solid enough, but his luck is about to run out while he waits his turn at the ticket counter. The area is crowded, several flights seem to have been cancelled due to some storm up east and people are trying to get rebooked and are frustrated when they are being told to wait till the morning.

There is an overall aggression in the air which grates on Steve's nerves. He can't afford to linger here, he just wants to buy his tickets and be out of here as fast as possible. He's not really sure if anyone is looking for him, but if anyone would be, this would be the first place to start searching.

All of a sudden, someone bumps into him from the side and Steve nearly tumbles over, dropping his backpack, but catching himself from falling at the last moment.

"Watch out, man," the guy says instead of apologizing and Steve really isn't in the mood to get shoved around.

"What the f—" he starts to argue as he straightens up, but in that moment a kid lands at his feet after having tripped over someone's baggage. Toy cars go flying and the kid starts crying immediately, so Steve crouches down to check if the boy is alright. He helps him get back on his feet, collects the toy cars and just when he is about to hand them back to the still wailing kid, someone pushes him out of the way rudely. It's the same guy who had nearly run Steve over just a moment before.

"Hey, Mattie, you alright? I told you not to run," he says, ruffling the boy's hair, obviously they know each other.

"What the hell!" Steve says angrily, getting up from where he's still crouching on the floor. "Who do you think you are?"

"I'm his brother. Who the hell are you?" The guy matches Steve's aggressive tone easily, glaring at him, and there's a challenge in his fierce blue eyes. Steve notices that he's a little shorter than him, but they must be about the same age.

"I was helping him just fine," Steve says, handing back the toy cars to Mattie with ostentation. Mattie had at least stopped crying at his brother's appearance, and is now sniffling and clutching the cars to his chest.

"You wouldn't need to help him if you hadn't left your baggage in the way—"

"I don't have any baggage," Steve says and that reminds him to pick up his backpack—only it's not there. He turns around, searching the floor for his bag but _crap!_, it's not there.

"Fuck!" he swears, panic grips at his heart, and he spins around once more, eyes roaming, and the backpack is still gone. It had held everything Steve had taken with him, his emergency money and his ID, spare clothes, some food, his beloved walkman and his favorite tapes. Oh, fuck! Everything's gone. He runs both hands through his hair nervously, his eyes scanning the crowd around him for any sign of his backpack. This can't be happening!

"Hey! What's the matter with you?" the guy asks, tugging at Steve's shirt sleeve to get his attention.

"My backpack's gone! I dropped it when you ran me over," Steve spits, anger and panic barely hidden, and he pulls his arm away sharply. "Don't touch me!"

"What color?"

Steve ignores the question, instead roaming his gaze over the people around them once again, someone must have taken his bag. It must be _somewhere_. Who has it? Why is this area so crowded? Why—

"Hey, what color is your backpack?" the guy asks, gripping at Steve's shirt again and Steve snaps, anger winning over the panic, he whirls around and grabs a fistful of the guy's t-shirt and pulls him in.

"I said don't fucking touch me," Steve growls, using his advantage in height to loom over him in a hopefully threatening manner.

"Daniel!" a man says sternly a couple feet away from them and before the situation can escalate any further. The guy's head snaps around, into the direction the voice came from and he lets go of Steve's shirt and uses the momentary distraction to shove Steve away from him.

"Sorry about your bag, man. I gotta go," he says, taking little Mattie by the hand, and then they are gone.

Steve stares after them, completely bewildered. He sees the man, who's most likely the father of the two boys, grip the older one by the upper arm roughly and starts berating him, not bothering to lower his voice much.

"Why do you always have to pick a fight, Danny, huh?" he says and Steve can hear every word, even from the distance. "You were supposed to look after Mattie, and you pick a fight? What were you thinking? Is this your idea of setting a good example?"

There's a flash of sympathy coursing through his bewilderment, the guy had been rude, but he had not been picking a fight—that had been Steve. And for good reason, he thinks, but his anger is deflating and slowly but surely panic is taking over.

—

The airport is freaking _huge_ and Steve has no idea how he ended up here, on the observation deck. He'd been wandering around for what felt like hours, trying to comprehend how his situation had just gone from bad to worse and what he could possibly have done to deserve this fuck-up. _Fubar_ his Uncle Joe would say and that brings a bitter smile to his face.

The rooftop terrace is mostly empty, which suits him fine, so he climbs onto one of the benches to sit on the backrest and stares into the sunset without really seeing it. If he was miserable this morning, when he cried his heart out at the roadside, he's got no words for how he's feeling right now. He's numb, completely drained of energy and deprived of any sense of purpose he'd had before. Desperate doesn't even begin to describe his situation.

Steve leans forward, elbows on his knees, and hides his face in his hands. He's not crying, there aren't any tears left right now, he can't believe he ran out of options so quickly. His plan to run had been harebrained to begin with, he'd known it and risked it anyway. But now he's out of resources completely and there's no back-up plan and _fuck!_, what's he gonna do?

For a moment he considers going back to the Army-Navy Academy. Maybe they will throw him out for going AWOL and then he would have a legitimate reason to go back home—only he knows they won't. His Uncle Joe would see to it, it was him who had gotten Steve into that school at his father's request and Steve is so mad at them both. His dad had told him that he could always trust Joe, but how can he trust either of them ever again after they broke up their family? For the thousandth time Steve wonders what the real reason is, why it's not safe—

"Hey," someone says directly next to him, and Steve nearly jumps out of his skin. He looks up sharply, his heart starts hammering in his chest in wild surprise, he had been so lost in thought, he hadn't heard any footsteps and hadn't noticed anyone approaching.

"You— what—," is all he manages to respond for a moment, until his brain catches on and he says, his voice pure disbelief, "You been following me or something?"

It's the same guy from before, _Daniel_, who had run him over and who now has the audacity to smile at Steve like their previous encounter had been nothing but fun and games.

"Not really. My parents dragged us into the restaurant below for dinner. I saw you heading up here, and—"

"And what? What do you want?"

"I wanted to see if you found your bag," he says and shrugs slightly, but he doesn't stop smiling despite Steve's glare and his harsh tone of voice.

"Nope. Haven't found it."

"Sorry."

"Yeah you should be," Steve snaps with a spark of anger he didn't know he had left. "It's your fault it got stolen." Who does this guy think he is? Isn't it bad enough he caused the commotion that allowed someone to take Steve's backpack? Can't he just leave? Company is the least thing Steve wants right now, and especially not the company of this guy.

"I am, I really am sorry. That's why I came here, to apologize." The smile is gone now, replaced by an intense sincerity that is, if anything, even worse. "I'm sorry I ran into you. I was just trying to catch my brother, he's… uh… he's a little wild sometimes."

"Apology noted," Steve says with a curt nod, but he keeps staring straight ahead, absentmindedly watching a plane slowly taxiing towards it's gate. His anger has evaporated as quickly as it had come, he is so tired and he needs to think and this guy doesn't seem to understand that this conversation was over before it even started.

"Go, leave me alone. Go back to your family or whatever," Steve adds, and whether it's because his words don't come out anywhere near as gruff as he had intended or if it's because this guy is just plain ignorant—he doesn't leave. Instead he walks around and sits on the bench next to Steve's feet and it's fucking unbelievable.

"I said leave me alone—"

"What if I don't want to go back to my family, huh?" He leans back and stretches his legs out, crossing his ankles. "I'm glad I got away from them, I'm fucking sick of babysitting. Who are you anyway, master of the observation deck?"

Steve ignores him and they sit in silence for a long while.

"I'm Danny," the guy says eventually.

"Steve," he says and it's more a reflex answering and it has nothing to do with the fact that Steve is slightly impressed that this guy won't take no for an answer. Or so he tries to convince himself.

—

Steve has no idea how much time has passed. The sun has set and it's fully dark now, and Steve guesses that it's probably past dinner time. Danny had made several attempts to start a conversation and each time, Steve had blatantly ignored him. At some point Danny had just started talking—and obviously he has a lot to get off his chest, because he hasn't stopped since.

Steve now knows that Danny is from New Jersey originally and that he's been in LA because his Uncle Vito got married. Danny told him that their flight has been cancelled and that they can't leave before morning; that they have to spend the night at the airport because his parents can't afford another night at the hotel for a family of six.

Danny had told him about his two sisters and his kid brother Mattie, and how he is the oldest and his parents always hold him responsible for any shitty nonsense and misbehavior his siblings manage to achieve.

"It's so fucking unfair, man. I just want to live my own life, hang out with my own friends. I love my family, don't get me wrong, but I need my own space, y'know?"

Steve spares him a quick glance and nods, signaling understanding. He had witnessed what his father had said to Danny and he gets the picture. He'd be pissed, too, if his parents made him babysit Mary all the time. Oh, fuck, _Mary!_ Steve runs his hands over his face and hides it there until he can breathe again. Right now, he would gladly take on all babysitting duties if he could just _be_ with Mary.

"You got any brothers or sisters?" Danny asks, right on queue as if he can read Steve's mind. _What the hell?_

"I got a little sister, Mary," Steve blurts out before he can really think about it, and he stops for a moment, surprised by his own reply. But just saying Mary's name out loud feels good, connects him to her somehow, so after another moment of hesitation, he admits "She's stubborn and annoying as hell, but I would do anything to protect her and to make her happy." Steve knows he sounds all kinds of sappy and stupid, but he couldn't care less—it's all true.

"Yeah," Danny says and Steve can see him hesitating before his curiosity wins out and he asks "So where is she? What are you doing here all alone anyway?"

Steve doesn't know why, but he gives in. Maybe it's just a much needed distraction from the never-ending cycle of what-if's and why-me's and what-now's that he has been stuck in all day. Maybe it's because Danny won't take no for an answer, maybe it's an opportunity to finally share all his grief and misery and the secrets that he had kept hidden for weeks now. What's to lose? He won't see this guy ever again after tomorrow morning.

So Steve tells his story, and as much as he had been talking before, Danny can listen, too. Steve tells him about his mother's car accident, about his dad sending Mary and him away, tearing their family apart. He tells Danny how Mary had suffered after losing her mom and how much he's worried about her. He tells Danny how angry he is at his dad and how much he hated it at the Army-Navy Academy; so much, in fact, that he stole a car to get away—

"What?" Danny interrupts him, an incredulous grin on his face. "You stole a car? No way!"

"Yeah," Steve says, and he can't help the small smile that steals itself onto his lips. "Man, I had to get away from that place."

"That's some crazy shit, you know that?" Danny is obviously impressed, and for a moment Steve is captivated by the admiring smile Danny is directing at him.

He slides down onto the bench, to sit next to Danny and he crosses his arms, hugging himself against the wind that's getting colder as night sets in. He's only wearing a shirt, the sweatshirt he'd packed had been in his backpack. Danny is wearing a jeans jacket, Steve notices, as Danny reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumbled pack of smokes.

"So now you're on the run from the military?" Danny asks, sounding intrigued. "Where are you headed?" He holds up the pack of cigarettes, offering one to Steve.

"Fuck if I know. I was going to buy tickets, get Mary and fly back home to Hawaii, but—" Steve has to bite his lip for a moment before he trusts himself to speak without his voice giving out on him.

"All I had was in my backpack, money, ID, everything," Steve says, barely getting the words out. "But now it's gone and I have nothing left." He tries to keep his voice neutral, but it sounds flat and defeated, reflecting exactly how he's feeling. He's not even angry anymore, he realizes, just completely at his wits' end.

To distract himself as much as Danny from his struggle to maintain composure over the hopelessness of his situation, he fumbles a cigarette out of the offered packet with shaky hands. He rarely smokes, he has tried it a few times, and he's not even sure he likes it.

Much to his surprise, one of Danny's hands lands on his shoulder, and he almost flinches.

"Fuck, man! I'm so sorry, I totally get why you're so pissed at me," he squeezes Steve's shoulder in what is supposed to be an apologetic gesture, and then proceeds to rub Steve's neck. "It's my fault that you're in this shithole situation—"

Danny's touch is soothing, and Steve isn't used to this kind of comfort—or any kind of physical comfort really. It had been rare and precious moments when his mom had given it, but since she's been gone—

His dad hadn't hugged him once since her death, and neither Mary.

Steve bites his lip and looks away, holding back tears by pure willpower, it would be too embarrassing. There's a strong desire in him to shake off Danny's hand and he can hear his father's voice clear in his mind "Tough it up, Steve," but it feels too nice.

He lets himself enjoy the warm hand on his shoulder for a moment, but then it hits home how pathetic this is: craving the comfort of a stranger he's met only a couple of hours before and who he'll never see again after tomorrow.

So he blinks back his tears determinedly. He remembers the cigarette he's still holding and clips it between his lips.

"You got light?" he asks and puts as much challenge into his gaze as he can manage when he looks at Danny.

—

They smoke mostly in silence, watching the busy activities of the airport and the planes coming in on the northern runway.

Danny hadn't commented on Steve's abrupt change of topic and if he'd noticed Steve wiping a stray tear from his eye, he hadn't said anything about it either.

"You know the funny thing is, I always wanted to join the military. My dad and my granddad were in the Navy, my Uncle is a Navy SEAL, it has always been the thing I wanted to do when I finish High School. But this—"

Steve leaves the sentence unfinished, flicking away his cigarette butt.

"This isn't how you thought it would go?" Danny finishes instead. "Will they be looking for you?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Steve says and it's the truth. He doesn't know what the procedure is for students going AWOL; but he has an idea who might be looking for him anyway.

"What about you?" he asks, not wanting to think about being followed or having to hide, whatever he'll decide his next steps to be. "Your folks not gonna miss you?"

"I hope they are, but it's likely they're too busy keeping the other three in check to notice that I'm gone," Danny sounds a little bitter, as if exactly that has happened before.

"You ever thought of running away?" Steve asks, rubbing his arms in an attempt to keep warm.

"Sometimes," Danny says and then specifies "more often, recently." He stubs his cigarette out on the floor with what looks like a little too much force.

"I never did," Steve says and then sighs. "And this is so stupid, I'm running, but all I want is get back home."

Danny snorts. "We make a great pair, did you notice?"

Steve nods, he's had the same thought. How much more opposite could they be? The kind-of orphan and the guy who's escaping his family?

They look at each other and Steve's gaze catches Danny's and they stare at each other for a moment that feels several seconds too long.

Steve is the first to look away, but he regrets that they haven't met under different—and nicer—circumstances. Danny seems like a pretty decent guy, and Steve is sure they would get along great. Maybe they would be friends in another universe.

—

It's getting cold outside and it must be late evening by now, so eventually they decide to go inside, find a place to hang out until morning, probably grab a bite to eat if they find something they can afford.

Danny lets out a small hiss when he gets up from the bench, and Steve notices the slight limp in his steps.

"You alright? Are you hurt?" Steve can't help but ask.

"I'm good. Too much baseball," Danny says gruffly and walks straight towards the exit. He puts his hand on the door handle and of course Steve expects him to push the door open and to keep walking—only Danny doesn't and Steve stops at the last moment before running into him.

"Would you—" he starts.

"Fuck!" Danny says and keeps rattling at the door. "It's locked."

"No way," Steve says and push-pulls at the door himself.

It doesn't give.

They are locked out for the night for all it seems and after an initial moment of shock, Steve starts laughing. Nothing about this situation is funny and he can't help it, he laughs and he can't stop. Because how much more absurd can it all become?

Danny gives him an unbelieving look, and then leans in against the glass doors trying to see anything, but it's dark inside, lights are switched off for the night and only the emergency signs are emanating a dim glow in the hallway. He's shaking his head, processing the situation, and it doesn't take long for him to join Steve's laughter.

Just as they finally manage to stop laughing and breathe again, Steve's stomach growls audibly into the silence and it throws them into the next fit of laughter.

"Dude," Steve wheezes, "I really need to eat. I didn't have anything since breakfast." He's got a couple of bucks in his jeans pocket, it would have been enough for some fast food at least.

"I could eat some, hey—" Danny's face lights up, his eyes are fixed somewhere behind Steve. "How much change do you got?"

"What?" Steve turns around to follow his gaze. There are several vending machines set up along the wall, and even if it's not what he had imagined—it's food!

They come up with quite a decent amount of change between them, and they spend it all on snacks and drinks, having a blast like first-graders that they can pick freely all the unhealthy things no adult would ever allow. Especially not all at once.

It's gotten windy, the chilly breeze from before has picked up in intensity, so they don't take their hoard back to the bench they had been sitting at before, but instead they picnic on the floor right in front of the vending machines; settling in for a long night.

"This looks like one hell of a Halloween haul," Danny says, pointing at the pile of food between them. "Better than Christmas morning."

"My football coach would get a stroke if he just saw the amount of fat and sugar in there," Steve grins, and no, there's no trace of a bad conscience at the prospect of eating all this.

They start their feast with a soggy sandwich each, that they have agreed on buying like the responsible teenagers they are, before they dig into the candy and chocolate bars and bags of chips which are so much more tempting.

"You play football?" Danny asks between bites. "Which position? No, let me guess—"

"Quarterback," they say at the same time, laughing.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Even broke a couple of school records," Steve says, trying hard and failing not to sound smug about it.

"Of course you would," Danny says with a teasing tone to his voice.

They banter back and forth, and it's easy, it's like they've known each other for years instead of mere hours. Talk about football leads to Danny telling how he tore his ACL playing baseball, which leads to talk about sports in general and they end up talking about anything and everything while they eat.

It turns out that they have quite a lot in common, but they also find themselves on opposite ends of many things. Steve's favorite subjects at school are Math and Science, while Danny likes English and Arts. Steve loves nature and all kinds of outdoor activities, while Danny prefers the hustle and bustle of the city.

They mostly agree when it comes to music, only when Danny mentions how much he loves Bon Jovi, Steve thinks of Mary again and how she had pestered him to learn to play "Blaze of Glory" on the guitar. He remembers her excited smile when he had played the song for her, and he grins.

Because he also remembers how much fun it had been to tease her about it, so he says "Bon Jovi? Seriously? Those guys play nothing but sappy love songs!"

Danny's outrageous reaction is exactly what Steve had hoped for, and his passionate rant in defense of the band is enough to distract Steve and keep his thoughts from lingering on Mary and wandering off into the wrong direction.

"What's wrong with love songs, huh? What's the matter with you?" Danny says, pointing at him with the chocolate bar he just picked up from their by now heavily shrunken pile of food. "Dude, Bon Jovi are fucking rock stars, and they are from New Jersey! Where you from? Hawaii? What do you got?"

It goes downhill from there.

They compare New Jersey and Hawaii and bicker and tease and eventually Steve finds himself defending Pizza Hawaii and subsequently the general existence of pineapples with the most ridiculous arguments he can come up with until Danny can't counter them anymore because he's laughing so hard.

—

It must be past midnight by now. They're huddled in the small space between two vending machines, with their backs against the wall and close together, because it's gotten fucking cold and at least the vending machines are emanating a little warmth.

He can feel Danny moving beside him, he feels Danny's elbow bumping against his arm repeatedly as he's talking about god knows what, Steve has lost track at some point, and he catches himself staring at Danny sideways.

Danny looks good, with his longish blond hair, his easy grin and the animated way he talks. Something stirs in Steve, like when he used to look at Luca from his football team, but he doesn't know what it is.

No, that's not true. He's got a pretty good idea what it is, but he's not sure he's ready to admit it.

He forces himself to look away, he tries to ignore this foreign feeling in his chest, he's in enough trouble already, he doesn't need any more problems to deal with. Instead, he leans his head back and stares into the night sky, searching for the stars which are curiously missing. It feels all wrong, even if he knows that it's the glaring airport lights that have swallowed them up.

"Hey, you even listening? Do you want another?" Danny gives him a nudge, and holds up the cigarette pack.

"Sure," Steve says and reaches for the pack, only "It's the last one." He pulls the cigarette out of the package and holds it up between them.

"Mind sharing?" Danny asks, crumbling the empty packet and stuffing it back into his jacket pocket.

Steve shakes his head no and puts the cigarette between his lips. Danny holds up the lighter, but the flame flickers and dies in the wind, so Danny cups his hand over it for the second try, and his fingertips brush lightly against Steve's face, leaving a tingling feeling in their wake.

Steve looks up sharply and there's something familiar in Danny's gaze, along with something he can't quite read, and Danny gives him a bashful smile and looks away. Steve inhales deeply once, twice, before he passes the cigarette over. He hopes the smoke will calm his nerves, he's seeing things, _get a grip!_

They smoke in silence for a while, passing the cigarette back and forth between them, lost in thought. Steve feels lightheaded, buzzed, not unlike that one time Kawika had made him smoke weed after they had turned and won the football game they had already thought they had lost. Maybe it's the sugar rush, the food hitting his system after not having eaten anything all day. Maybe it's the long day catching up with him. Or maybe it's the way talking to Danny has made him forget about his miserable situation for a while.

"I get it," Danny says apropos of nothing, breaking the quiet.

"Huh?" Steve makes a questioning sound while smoking and then holds up the cigarette for Danny. "What do you mean?"

"I get why you want to go home so badly. I can't imagine living anywhere but in New Jersey." Danny takes the offered cigarette back from Steve. "But I guess sometimes you have no choice, right?"

"I suppose." Steve exhales a lungful of smoke slowly. His dad definitely hadn't given him or Mary a choice about it. And trying to take that choice back into his own hands hadn't been anywhere near as easy as expected, as he had learned the hard way today.

"I mean, I was just thinking what if we are stuck here still when my flight leaves tomorrow morning and my parents will have to fly out without me?"

"Is that what you want?" Steve frowns at Danny, but he's curious where this is going.

"We could run together," Danny says and takes one last drag of the cigarette before flicking it away into the night. "If you want." Danny turns his head, and he's dead serious. There's something almost wishful in his eyes, taking Steve's breath away.

"Yeah," is all he manages to say, as he is trying to figure out what Danny implies, what it could mean.

—

It's the dead of night and it's just the two of them out here, like the outside world has stopped existing. There's a constant low humming from the vending machines, almost luring them to sleep. Steve is exhausted, he still hasn't figured out where to go from here, but right now, he doesn't really care anymore. Nothing matters out here, there's just them and this moment and everything has a dream-like feeling about it.

Danny leans heavily onto his side, Steve's not sure if he's dozed off, but his arm definitely is falling asleep and getting numb from the additional weight. He carefully pulls it out and places it around Danny's shoulders instead. Danny stirs, not asleep then, and he shifts down a little so they fit together better.

"You make a comfortable pillow, I want you to know that," Danny murmurs and Steve laughs softly. Then Danny turns his head, and suddenly he's really close, and Steve has a fleeting thought that this should feel all kinds of awkward and weird—only it doesn't.

He can feel Danny's breath on his skin, he can smell the lingering cigarette smoke on him and a scent of Pepsi, and something underlying that must be all Danny. For a brief moment he hesitates, but then he leans down, leaning his forehead against Danny's temple, burying his nose in Danny's hair.

Danny lays his hand on Steve's thigh, warm and firm and comforting and hell, yes, they should run away together.

—

Steve wakes up early the next morning with the uneasy feeling of being watched. Danny is still leaning on him, warm and solid, and Steve's head has come to rest on top of Danny's. It would feel nice, if it wasn't for his senses on high alert. He blinks his eyes open and when he lifts his head, he finds himself staring at his Uncle Joe.

* * *

Notes:

A short note about Danny and his siblings: I made Danny the oldest one of the Williams children, and only later I discovered that in canon, it's actually Stella. I also made the age difference between Danny and Mattie pretty big, since I made Mattie about 10 years younger than Danny. I don't think they are so many years apart in canon. So please give me some artistic credit here. :)

According to Spotterswiki, LAX has an observation deck on it's iconic "Theme Building", and apparantly there is a restaurant in this building, too. I'm not sure if it was there and open in 1992, and I've also never been there, so this is all mostly my imagination.

Thank you for reading! A note on how you liked it would make me incredibly happy!


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